Rebellium
by Snowbird123
Summary: Dumbledore and Grindelwald have finally achieved Grindelwald's ideas of wizarding domination, enslaving muggles and ruling both worlds. Years have passed by and a resistance was born to put a stop to slavery and save both worlds but have been put underground due to mysterious circumstances. Who will rise up and put a stop to this madness? *Rated M for a reason*


Rebellium takes place in the Marauders Era in an alternate universe where Dumbledore and Grindelwald have managed to not only enslave muggles but also remove magic of muggle-borne and half-bloods alike, making them slaves as well. Dumbledore and Grindelwald created a world where pure bloods dominate both the wizarding world and the muggle world below, merging both into one world. They also established a pyramid structured government placed themselves on top. I thought it was a cool idea and went with it, hope you guys enjoy the first chapter!

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Chapter One

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Drip…

Drip…

Drip...

Those were the sounds that echoed throughout the holding cell. A cell that deprived the freedom of its captive inside as the water continued to drop onto the concrete floor.

Drip…

Drip…

Drip…

The boy inside the prison sat silently on his cot. Nothing but solid stone walls surrounds him, almost completely embraced with darkness. He wrapped himself in threadbare bed sheets to shelter from the cold night breeze. A small, narrow path of moonlight glimmered through the barred window on the opposite side of the room. His soot- colored orbs reflected against the scarce source of light as he continued to stare blankly at the moon _"How long have I been in here?"_ He glanced at his wrists that were rubbed raw from the ropes of his earlier restraints.

He began to pick at the scabs on one of his wrists out of boredom. His nail tucked under the edge of the protective shell and gradually added pressure as he started his attempt to separate the scab from his skin. It got stuck in the middle and started to emit a small pinch of pain. He smirked to himself _"Heh. I went through worst pain than this. Ripping a fresh scab off is nothing!"_ He continued ignoring the feeling and the crust came off, leaving a spot of pink skin as small amounts of blood pooling from the edges. The scab was now resting on his palm as he flicked it to one of the thick iron bars. The shell bounced off one of the door's bars with a faint tap and landed onto the cold floor.

The boy crawled from his bed and pulled the sheets with him, trying to reserve the little warmth he had as he crawled to retrieve his freshly picked off scab. He gingerly picked up the reddish brown shell as he slithered back to his cot only to crawl under it. The small space was entombed with cobwebs. He squirmed to the corner farthest from him as he wormed his way towards his destination. He managed to reach his target as he fought the urge to breathe a sigh of relief. The last time he did that, the dust flew around him forming a small dust storm.

The area was clustered with separate towers of pebbles, teeth, and carcasses of dead spiders. With the new scab, he steadily placed it on the top of his newest pile. He hummed to himself as he began to count the contents of his piles. He was halfway done with counting his mountain of yellowed molars when a deep voice on the other side of his cell beckoned him to come over.

"Boy!"

His cell mate's call echoed through the dreary hall, the young lad growled as he crept from under his bed and crawled towards the barred door on all fours with caution like a young Acromantula exploring unknown terrain. He held his uncounted portion of his prized collection of molars possessively as he leaned against the bars. Across from him, his cellmate, Vladimir Spinks was the man others would avoid like the plague. He was a beast, a warrior who slaughtered many as he was unfortunate enough to be thrown into the fighting pits had to battle against other slaves to live.

The child stared at his dark leathery skin as they were engraved with numerous scars both new and old. His whole body was scripted with scars and bruises as if his body was a book, reciting its recorded tale of torture and pain over and over again. He couldn't help but stare at his cellmate's scars, almost feeling the searing pain just by placing his dark gaze upon them.

He was then interrupted when Spinks yanked a tooth out of his hand and examined.

"Is…is this a tooth?"

The boy didn't answer as he snatched his possession out of Spink's clutches.

"You have a pile of teeth?!"

The boy scowled as Spinks continued, changing the subject "Listen, there's been news spreading around, news about _you_."

His eyes widened and soon felt a cold shiver travel through his spine. He waited for the scarred man to continue.

"They're saying that you've been sold off. And to where, I have no idea. Let's just hope it isn't the fighting pits or "The Satyr's Horn."

A familiar small voice interrupted as the voice sobbed, trying to sing but kept getting choked on each note, sounding like a man drowning in his own tears.

 _"Far over the hill where the willows never grow…_

 _Is a place where it always snows…_

 _It was called 'The Satyr's Horn'…_

 _A place that makes you wish you were never born…_

 _We soiled doves were made to be imprisoned in cages…_

 _We are outlets for men and their sexual rages…_

 _And for their entertainment, our bodies were abused…_

 _And our flesh was battered and bruised…_

 _Snuff out your fears…_

 _And drink your tears…"_

Spinks banged against his cell bars and growled "Bloody heel, Whispers, you're not helping! You're scaring the boy!

One of the inmates near his cell was named Whispers who often rasped about his bone-chilling experiences from that place. "The Satyr's Horn" was an infamous brothel that was known for having the most violent clients as poor Whispers was one of the entertainers. One night left him with his throat damaged to a point where he could barely talk and could only speak in a low wispy tone. That was why he was named Whispers.

Spinks looked back, seeing the young boy cradling himself back and forth, mumbling to himself.

He cleared his throat "Boy, I-I don't think you'll end up at that brothel…"

He couldn't reach him, the child was in his own world, desperately clawing his way from cruel reality as he desperately tried to ignore the miserable songs from Whispers.

Spinks continued to try and ease the lad when he stopped, spotting a large, bulky shadow heading towards the child's cell.

.

.

.

The young child heard the lock on his bars click and swing open, revealing a stout man with a face resembling much like a bull-dog. "Ye've finally been bought, boy." The dog –faced man grinned while gripping the chains in his meaty clutches "Time ter tie yer up and taken to yer new master."

Chilled metal stung against his body as chains were attached to his neck and limbs as the man chuckled cruelly "Can't 'ave yer escape'in can we?" The boy scowled as he jerked at his shackles, attempting to loosen its hold on him. The man growled "Now don't yer start fight'in now, boy." He yanked the chains, pulling the frail boy along with him out of the cell. He desperately tried to look back at his cell mates one last time, try to say his farewells but the man's strength was too great and he found himself being dragged with ease like a rag doll. He was soon dragged along the grimy staircase with nothing but flickering wall torches lighting their way was they climbed up the spiraling steps.

They arrived at the top with a large wooden door. The dog man barked "Open th' door yer bastards!" A moment passed as the door creaked open with a pruned old woman greeting them "Ah, Mr. Breckinridge, you're back. Where's the half-blood boy?"

Breckinridge yanked the child to his side "He's right 'ere, Agnes."

The woman smiled shrewdly as she gripped his chin with her bony fingers and examined his pale face "I'm actually surprised that one of our best clients wanted to own this boy, even with such a severe appearance…perhaps if he didn't have a large nose, he may have been more visually appealing."

The shackled boy hissed as he spat on her wrinkly face. She wiped the trail of saliva as she shrieked "GET THIS FILTHY BEAST OUT OF HERE!" Breckinridge wrenched his chain once more, the boy hesitantly followed behind him.

.

.

.

The links from the shackles clanked heavily onto the polished tiled floor as the boy was lead to a brighter hallway. The area was decorated wall to wall with pearl white marble. Silver unicorns were dancing on velvet tapestries on the walls. And crystal chandeliers were dangling onto the arched ceiling, casting a luminous light. The boy brought one of his cuffed hands to shield his eyes from the harsh light. Breckinridge stopped in front of a grand entrance with two twin glass doors. The boy fixed his sight on the door and grimaced as he saw his reflection _"Curse this place."_

The doors opened with ease as a loud gust of wind swept inside. The boy's onyx orbs stared outside as it fixed upon a bright red carriage outside. Overwhelmed, the boy took a step back. Breckinridge sneered as he yanked the chain; forcefully pulling the boy in front of him "Don't yer even think 'bout escape'in." He pushed the boy by his shoulders until they made it to the carriage. They stopped in front of the doors of the vehicle as Breckinridge pulled the boy close and venomously repeated "Don' even think about escape'in…because if ye do, I'll neuter ye and make ye wish yer t'were never born!"

The boy winched as Breckinridge spittle onto his face and the dog-faced man let him go and knocked on the doors. The boy set his dark gaze onto his transit to the next hell he'll be sent to. He wondered where he would be forced into…would he be shipped the brothel he heard from Whispers' bone chilling tales? Or would he be sent to the fighting pits like Spinks?

The group of Pegasus attached to the carriage stared at him with an odd look in their doe-like eyes; it was the same look from his cell mates, empathy.

To his surprise, he felt a strong push behind his frail back, whirling him into the vehicle with brute force.

The boy scrambled up to find himself toppled over a pair of legs of a man, adorned in golden wizard robes with round glasses resting on his nose. The spectacled man had his eyes on the dark haired boy for a moment or two. He turned to Breckinridge with a smile "I see you brought the boy, just as I've asked."

Breckinridge bowed with grace "Glad ter see yer again, Mr. Potter."

Potter reached into his robe and pulled out a bulky leather poach as he handed it to the dog- faced man "Here, as promised. Five hundred galloons was your price I believe."

He took the bag greedily and smirked "Best ter keep eh sharp eye on this 'un. E's a fighter. A tru' beastie."

"I'm aware Mr. Breckinridge. No need to worry. He will adjust soon enough."

Breckinridge gave one final polite bow before slamming the carriage door with a muffled laugh "Good ridd'nce ter that 'alf-blood!"

The boy scrambled from the floor to the bench across from the well-dressed man as the carriage began to move. The boy brought his legs up to his chest and giving the man, Potter his fiercest scowl for defense. Potter chuckled for he could sense the fear and anxiety from the other "No need to be scared, as long as you do as you're told, no harm will come to you."

That earned him a deeper glare from the boy. He ignored it and continued "So, can you tell me your name?"

He received no answer "So you can't talk? Oh well, we'll just give you name. Now let's see…Barnaby? No, not suitable to you in the slightest. How about Maurice-"

Before he could finish his sentence, he was interrupted with a sharp hiss "No."

Potter froze for a moment "Oh, so you can talk. You have a name?"

The boy glared and replied with an irritated tone " _Yes_ I have a name!"

Potter sighed with a slight annoyance "No need to use such a vulgar tongue, especially since you're serving me. Now, you're name?"

The boy paused for a moment as he hid his pale face behind his greasy curtain of hair "…Severus."

Potter smiled "Severus…a nice name, nice name indeed. That name suits you completely. My name is Fleamont Potter but you are to call me Master or Lord Potter, understand?"

Severus gave a small nod as he pressed his gaze to the window, observing the scenery of glimmering night clouds flying by. Skeletal creatures emerged from the clouds. He braced his spidery fingers on the windowpane as he brought his face closer to the glass. The creatures came closer as they appeared to be in the form of horses with large bat wings. The moonlight gleamed on their leathery wings as the creatures glowed with a soft light.

The skeletal horses danced along the glittering stars as they neighed without a care in the world. Severus unconsciously gripped his shackles as he continued to listen to their song. Grips of envy clenched to his stomach as he continued watch them glide freely into the night.

Lord Potter noticed what the meager lad was staring at as he noted "Thestrals."

"Mm?"

"The creatures you're ogling at are called Thestrals. They are common in these areas…although the fact that you're able to see them at such a young age is quite…disturbing. Wait, how old are you Severus?"

Severus glanced at his new master "…nine."

He smiled "I have a son who is the same age you are. You two will be bound to get along."

The space shook violently as the carriage scudded to a sudden stop. The door opened, revealing a middle-aged man with silver hair that gently hung over a strong, cheerful face that was adorned with a goatee. His lidded blue eyes, drifted towards Potter "Master, you arrived."

Potter stepped out as his heels clicked against the cobblestone ground "Cosmas, I want you to clothe Severus and bring him inside."

He arched an eyebrow "Severus?"

"The boy inside the carriage."

Cosmas peered into the carriage with a confused gaze "There's no one in here, Master Potter."

Potter lunged head first into the carriage only to find young Severus, gone.

To be Continued...

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I know it's been about a year since I've posted anything and I apologize if it caused anyone problems, I'm getting caught up now. The new chapters of my previous stories are being written and to be honest, it almost makes my cringe a little since I notice errors here and there so I'm going to edit them as well. I still have some stories to post and am currently trying to publish a mystery novel. To be truthful, the reason I why I took so long was because I had personal troubles, I'm still trying to get over my paranoia. I'm better now and I hope that my writing improves as I continue to type along.


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